


A Life So Devoutly Wished For

by orphan_account



Category: Olympics RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dancing, Hidden Talents, Kissing, M/M, Secrets, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibilty to make  those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Ryan's brain may not remember much, but his feet do.

He finds himself standing in first position in his kitchen as he waits for his toast to pop up from the toaster, one hand on the counter as if it were a ballet barre and the other held delicately at his side, arm bent at the elbow into a gentle curve. Ryan looks down and turns out his ankles the way his first instructor, Madame Komeski, taught him to when he was just seven years old. He goes up onto his tip-toes just to see if he can still do it and low and behold, he goes up into a complete en pointe. In that split second Ryan feels something he hasn't felt in a very long time.

He feels whole.

Complete.

Free, even.

As if nothing in the world can touch him.

Then his toast pops up out of the toaster and the glory of the moment is gone. He lightly butters his toast and runs through the schedule of practices he has taped to the refrigerator. He's only got a few more days at home before training camp and he can't afford to think about anything besides swimming. He keeps his head down and does what he needs to do to get on track but every now and then, as he's standing on deck or in front of his locker he looks down at his feet and finds that he's turned out his ankles.

\--

Michael meets him at the airport in Knoxville and they take a cab to the university. Once there, they sign in and get directions to the dorm where they'll be staying. They settle into the dorm room fairly easily, both of them unpacking and claiming which of the two beds in the room they want. It's a little tradition they have; room together at training camp and then at international training and then finally, at the Olympics. Ryan feels like his heart is too big for his body, an ache settling deep in his chest at the thought that next time around, he'll be going through this routine with someone else. Michael's retirement is looming over everyone's heads but no one will talk about it.

“Do you miss it?” Michael asks out of the blue, breaking Ryan out of his own thoughts.

“Miss what?” Ryan says as he lines his shoes up against the wall nearest his bed.

“Dancing,” Michael shrugs, hanging a polo shirt up on a plastic hanger. “You get this look on your face sometimes and then you do that weird thing with your feet.”

“How did you even know to look for something like that?” Ryan can feel his voice waver. “I've never told anybody about it.”

Michael shrugs again. “Baltimore has a dance academy. You remember Bailey, that girl I dated for a while? She was a teacher there and she used to do that foot thing too.”

“Oh,” Ryan says. A silence stretches out between the two swimmers for almost a full minute before Ryan speaks up. “They made me give it up. My parents... they didn't think it was the right thing for me.”

“And swimming was?” Michael arches an eyebrow.

“I wasn't a very good dancer, but I was a great swimmer,” Ryan replies. “I guess they thought that it would be better for me if I did something I could be successful at.”

“Rather than letting you pursue something that you were passionate about?” Michael asks. “Something that would make you truly happy?”

“I didn't say they were perfect parents,” Ryan sighs. “I just said that they were mine.”

“Yeah, man. I can understand.” Michael says, giving Ryan one of his crooked, _C _o_ me Kiss Me _smiles that he usually reserves for female fans. “My mom wouldn't let me be what I wanted to be when I was little, either.”

“And what did you want to be?”

“A pine cone tree.” Michael says sheepishly.

Ryan laughs harder than he has in ages.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

The flight from training camp in Knoxville straight to London is pretty uneventful for Ryan. He dozes for a while, checks Twitter to see what his fans are saying, and watches as Conor Dwyer and the other rookies fawn over Michael. Before he feels like he can even really settle in, the seat belt light is on and the plane is landing. They get hustled through the airport by security after they collect their bags and then they're piled into a shuttle van and whisked off to the Village.

“I've got a surprise for you,” Michael says once they've unpacked and settled in their room in the American dorms. Ryan's sitting cross-legged on the bed he's chosen for himself, the one furthest from the door and closest to the window. He watches as Michael reaches into the bottom of his kit bag and pulls out a small square box. He tosses it to Ryan and Ryan opens it cautiously because if having two younger brothers has taught him anything it's that little square boxes can contain a multitude of unpleasant (and usually slimy) things. When he finally sees what's inside his heart soars.

Inside the box are a brand new pair of standard black men's ballet shoes as well as a black Sharpie, a package of denim needles, a spool of black cord, and a travel size roll of masking tape. “Michael,” Ryan's words are strained, tears of joy pooling in the corners of his eyes. “How did you even... I mean really, why would you-” Ryan loses his words, looks down at the box, and when he looks up Michael is suddenly very close to him, sitting next to him on the bed with a hand on his knee. It all feels sort of strange. Intimate, even. But then again, Ryan and Michael never really had any boundaries when it came to each other, physical or otherwise.

“Bailey and I are still on good terms,” Michael says. “I called her and asked what you'd need. I know we've got other things to worry about right now but I just felt like this was something you should explore when you get a chance.”

“When I get a chance?” Ryan asks. Michael opens his mouth but Ryan holds up a hand, signaling that he's not done speaking. Ryan sighs, then says. “Michael, we're in London.... for the fucking Olympics. I'm swimming four individual events plus the relays. When will I ever get a chance? And besides, I haven't danced in over a decade. What if I'm no good at it?”

“Just start with the shoes,” Michael intones wisely. “Everything else will fall into place.”

So that's what Ryan does. He starts by putting on the ballet shoes, crisscrossing the elastic strips and drawing them tight over the top of his feet. Ryan then marks the white inseam of each shoe in the spot where he will sew the elastic to the shoe itself with the Sharpie. He threads one of the needles with a length of cord, makes the necessary stitches, and cuts away the extra cord and elastic. Finally, he draws the bow that tightens the opening of the ballet shoe until it's snug but not too tight. Ryan then uses the masking tape to secure the bow to the roof of the shoe so it won't loosen. When he's finished, he stretches his legs out in front of him and points his toes, rolling his ankles to the left and then to the right.

“They're perfect.” Ryan whispers. Michael shifts beside him, drawing Ryan in for a hug. He tucks his chin into the dip where Ryan shoulder meets his neck and says,

“They're only as perfect as the person wearing them. So yeah, they're perfect.” Before Ryan's brain has time to think it through, his body turns into Michael's embrace and their lips meet in a chaste kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

Ryan realizes exactly what he's doing after about ten seconds. He pulls out of the kiss and licks his lips, tastes Michael's chapstick; sweet and smooth and just a little bit waxy. “You taste like grapefruit,” Ryan mumbles, shifting his weight on the bed into order to put some space between the two of them. There are butterflies in his stomach fluttering around in slow, sweeping motions.

“Early birthday present from Whitney,” Michael shrugs. “She got me this whole basket full of all kinds of organic products. Shampoo and shaving lather and tons of other stuff. I brought most of it with me.”

“I don't know why I did that.” Ryan confesses. “Kissing you, I mean. I didn't mean to do that.”

“It's okay,” Michael smiles softly. “Sometimes it helps just to feel close to someone.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ryan replies, looking down at his feet again.

“Besides,” Michael adds. “That was the best kiss I've had in a long time.” The butterflies in Ryan's stomach flutter a little faster.

\--

Opening Ceremonies are only five days away and Ryan has settled into his taper fairly well. He and Michael stick to a semi-strict routine.

Eat.

Swim.

Sleep.

Repeat.

Somewhere in between those three things Michael encourages Ryan to dance for a little while each day, even if it’s only him going through ballet stances in front of the full length mirror on the front of their bathroom door. Usually Ryan would be climbing the walls by now but something about Michael’s gentle prompting and the resurgence of his own confidence keeps Ryan feeling relaxed. Everything seems to be going fine until Ryan gets a call from his father. They’ve just come back from dinner and settled in for the night when Ryan’s iPhone starts blaring _Stuntin’ Like My Daddy_. He answers it, saying, “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

“I hope you’re remembering what’s important right now,” Steven Lochte says in a way that’s just like him. No "hello," no "how are you," just straight to business. “I don’t want to hear about you doing anything stupid.”

“I won’t do anything stupid,” Ryan promises. Then he takes a deep breath and asks the question that’s been on his mind ever since he left Knoxville. “Dad, why did you take me out of dance?”

His father doesn’t even pause to think about the answer, just says, “No son of mine was gonna spend his life twirling around in tights. I humored you because of your mother but in the end I got her to see reason.”

Ryan says, “Oh.” and rushes off the phone, saying “goodbye” and “I love you” all while trying desperately to keep his voice from cracking. He feels the tears sliding down his face and when he goes to take a breath he lets out a gut-wrenching sob instead. Michael is suddenly there beside him, helping him stand because his knees feel like jello.

“Shhh, shhh,” Michael hushes him, holding Ryan close as he slowly lowers them to the ground. They stay curled around each other for only God knows how long but Michael doesn’t seem to mind. He just runs his hands through Ryan’s soft, brown hair and lets him cry it out.

“He took it away from me,” Ryan says bitterly. “He knew how much it meant to me and he took it away because he wanted me to live up to some bullshit, heteronormative, alpha-male cliche.”

“You’re an adult now,” Michael tells him. “He can’t take anything away from you. It’s time for you do what you love and tell everyone else to go fuck themselves.”

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do that.” Ryan admits solemnly.

“Well, I’m right here and I’m not leaving,” Michael says resolutely. “I’ll be strong enough for the both of us.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

The morning after the disastrous call from his father, Ryan doesn't talk about dancing. He forgoes practicing his stances in favor of getting to training early and basically sulks for three whole days. Michael lets him stew in his own insecurity, knowing it won't be much longer until Ryan shakes off whatever is weighing him down and gets back to being his rebellious self. Opening ceremonies are two days away when Ryan finally wakes up and feels a special kind of energy surging through his body; an energy that only means one thing.

He's ready.

He has to get out on the floor and see what happens.

“I wanna dance today but I don't have a place to do it,” Ryan tells Michael over breakfast. All the other swimmers are clustered around tables similar to the one he and Michael are sharing, laughing amongst themselves over the _Call Me Maybe_ video Natalie convinced everyone to shoot and post on YouTube.

“Not a problem,” Michael says, totally on board. “I'll make some calls.”

There's no nitpicking or questions about if dancing will fuck with his taper. Ryan asks and he receives; just like that. Then Michael reaches into his backpack and pulls out another box, this one far bigger than the last. He slides it across the table to Ryan who opens it. It contains one pair of standard black tights, a dancebelt, and a white rehearsal tee all in the correct size.

“Oh, Michael,” is all Ryan can bring himself to say.

“I was gonna give it to you earlier but I thought you'd need a little time to get out of the funk you were in.” Michael explains, shrugging one shoulder like it's nothing. Michael's looking at him in a way that suggests that Ryan could tell him to lasso the moon and Michael would not only try to do so, but stop at nothing until he succeeded. It's almost too much to take.

“You don't have to do all this for me,” Ryan says, trying to hide how vulnerable he feels under Michael's gaze. Michael smiles, reaches across the table, and takes Ryan's hand in his own.

“Everything I do is for you,” he says. “I thought you knew that.”

And it's at that exact moment when Ryan's heart swells in his chest and he literally feels himself fall in love with Michael.

He can't remember ever feeling so scared in his entire life.

He also can't remember ever feeling so alive.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

After morning training Michael takes Ryan to a small studio in the Village where the synchronized swimmers do land training. The room itself is all hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling mirrors, plus an impressive sound system. “This place is ours until three o'clock,” Michael tells him, then asks, “Is it okay if I stay and watch?”

“Of course,” Ryan smiles. “I'm just gonna warm up and go through some basic stuff... nothing fancy.”

“That's fine by me,” Michael says. Ryan gives him a nod and hands over his iPod, indicating that Michael should take a seat near where the sound equipment is and hook up the device. Ryan strips out of his clothes and puts on the dance gear Michael gave him as well as his ballet shoes. He goes through a series of stretches until Michael picks a song. Michael touches the screen Ryan's iPod and the room is filled with the opening notes of Maxwell's _Pretty Wings_.

Ryan smiles, stares at his reflection in the mirror, and pulls his body up into a perfect en pointe before falling into a double pirouette. He follows that up with a quick sissone and a grand jete. He goes through a few more jumps and some intricate footwork. He feels the burn of his muscles stretching in ways they haven't in years, but it’s a welcomed ache. He winds down as the song ends, an astonished smile on his face. Ryan looks to Michael and finds that his smile is just as wide.

“That was awesome,” Michael says excitedly.

“I can't believe it,” Ryan replies, chest heaving in both exertion and elation. “I can still do it.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “You can.”

Ryan doesn't get a chance to tell Michael thank you. Before he can form the words Michael's face is two inches from his own, their breath mingling in the small space between them. Ryan can't tell who moves first, him or Michael, but that doesn't really matter. What matters is that they're kissing; slow and deep and desperate in a way that makes the space between Ryan's hip bones ache something fierce. Michael tries to take a step back, only for Ryan to grab at the back of his neck.

“No,” Ryan growls. “Not done yet.”

“Okay,” Michael chuckles, then lets Ryan pull him back into the kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

By the time Opening Ceremonies have arrived Ryan and Michael have managed to kiss every chance they can for as long as they can. Ryan feels sixteen again, trying desperately to be satisfied by make out sessions and the occasional grope when all he wants to do is to fuck.

Fuck and fuck and fuck and suck and hump and fuck, possibly stop for food and water, and then fuck some more.

But he doesn't push the issue. This is Michael after all- not some Gainesville tramp- and if Michael wants to go slow then Ryan will go slow; like, continental drift slow if that's what it takes. But he doesn't have time to think about that right now. After all, gold medals don't win themselves.

\--

Like a lot of other swimmers Ryan and Michael forgo the Opening Ceremonies in favor of preparing for their first swim of the Games, which is the very next morning. They leave the television on blaring out Bob Costa's voice during the Parade of Nations and set about completing another of their little traditions; shaving down together. Ryan strips out of his clothes quickly, thinking nothing of being naked in front of Michael. “You wanna go first?” Michael asks, his voice husky for some reason.

“But you always go first...” Ryan's voice trails off when he looks at Michael and figures out why he wants to go second. Michael's balanced on the edge of the tub in just his underwear, sitting sort of hunched in on himself in an effort to hide the impressively large erection tenting up his Calvin Klein boxer-briefs. Ryan suddenly realizes how things have changed. This isn't like being naked in the locker room with your teammates. There's no promise of intimacy in that situation as opposed to the situation Ryan finds himself in now.

“This is weird,” Michael says quietly. He stands up and makes his way back out into the bedroom, saying, “I'll just let you-"

"Get back here,” Ryan interrupts him, wrapping his fingers into the curve of Michael's bicep and pulling him back into the bathroom. “It's fine.”

“No, it's not,” Michael argues, tries to leave again.

"Stop that,” Ryan says as he draws Michael in for the second time. “Everything's fine. It's okay.”

“God, I feel like such a sleazeball,” Michael blushes. “I haven't even asked you out yet and I'm already perving on you.”

“We can fix that,” Ryan concludes. He asks, “Michael Phelps, will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I will.” Michael answers.

“Good,” Ryan smiles, then drops to his knees. He backs Michael up against the bathroom counter, hooks his fingers into the waistband of the other swimmer's underwear, and draws them down until Michael's cock hangs free; thick and long and flushed bright red at the tip. “One rule, sweetheart,” Ryan tells Michael. “Don't pull my hair.”

Michael goes to say, “Alright” but only manages to get out “alri-” before Ryan leans in and swallows him down to the root.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Ryan asks, voice rough after giving Michael what could possibly be the best blowjob anyone in the world has ever received. The cause for Ryan's concern is the strange way Michael is leaning back so the bathroom door supports all his weight as he comes down, body vibrating with a bonafide case of the shivers.

“I'm fine,” Michael says in that _I Can't Believe You Let Me Come In Your Mouth_ tone every guy has; gruff but still slightly amazed. Ryan looks at him as he stands up and can't help but smile at what he sees; Michael with his underwear caught halfway down his legs, face and chest flushed red, pupils blown so wide that there's only a thin circle of honey brown around the edge of each pupil. “God,” Michael shudders. “It's like you sucked everything in my skull out through my dick.”

Ryan smiles, says, “That's why they call it _'getting brain,'_ ” making quotation marks around the last two words.

“Oh,” Michael nods. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Okay, Einstein,” Ryan says as he pulls Michael's underwear all the way down so that the other swimmer can step out of them. “Let's get shaved down so we can, oh I don't know, compete in the fuckin' Olympics tomorrow.”

“If you're my boyfriend now does that mean we can sleep together?” Michael asks, then elaborates by adding “You know, like, share a bed but not actually have sex?”

“Yeah, that's fine,” Ryan answers. “We'll just have to push the beds together. Now find the razors.”

Michael rummages around until he finds the razors and the rest of their night is mostly spent complimenting Michael's sister's choice in organic shaving lather and exchanging pecking kisses just because they can.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

The days of competition pass in a whirlwind of wins and losses, triumph and turmoil. Medals are given- some gold, some silver, some bronze- but all very well appreciated. The night after the 4x100 relay Michael and Ryan don't go out to celebrate with their teammates. Ryan claims exhaustion and Michael says that he has to meet up with Bob to discuss some things, and then the two of them slink away as quickly and quietly as possible.

Instead they spend the night talking about both everything and nothing, packing their bags, stealing desperate kisses, and trying to make time stop. Trying to get just one more kiss, one more touch, one more moment when they're sharing the same breath.

Ryan leans in the bathroom doorway, takes in the sight of their two Village beds pushed together, as if the beds are a metaphor for their relationship. Close before but never quite one unit until now. “It's really over,” Ryan says in a wondrous tone, both amazed and sorrowful. “You did it. You've done everything you ever wanted to do in your career. You're really retired. We're never gonna swim together again.”

“Aww, Babe, don't talk like that,” Michael sighs and turns to face Ryan, postponing his search for a lost left shoe. “We'll still swim, just not in competition. Besides, I thought you didn't like racing me.”

“That's not what I'm gonna miss,” Ryan replies. “I'm not gonna miss beating you. I'm gonna miss winning with you.”

Michael says, “Just don't think of it that way. Think of it like you're swimming for both of us. Like I'm on your back and you gotta pull us both to the wall.”

“I guess I can do that,” Ryan nods, feeling better.

Michael smiles, nods, and returns to searching for his shoe, which he soon finds has somehow ended up wedged between the doors of the closet. After a few minutes of wiggling each door and rather colorfully cursing the stubbornness of his offending shoe, Michael gives an exasperated exhale and looks to Ryan. Ryan walks to the closet, kicks the nearest door once, and suddenly the shoe is free. “That's not fair,” Michael pouts. “I loosened it for you.”

Ryan laughs, then leans down and kisses Michael's pout away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

They take separate taxis to Heathrow in hopes of avoiding a tearful goodbye. Michael insists that he can cancel his plans for an all bros escapade to the Maldives and return to the U.S. with Ryan, but Ryan won't let him.

“You already promised your friends,” Ryan tells Michael in their last few moments together. “And besides, I've got a huge press tour to tend to. We wouldn't even have time to be alone.”

“Okay,” Michael concedes. They share one last passionate kiss and each go their own way.

Over the next ten weeks Ryan spends more time on airplanes than he does in his own house. He does about a billion interviews and makes countless cameo appearances on television shows. He plays up his laid back attitude and goes out of his way to cultivate the _Dude, I’m So Fuckin' High Right Now_ persona people are expecting when it comes to him. He used to feel bad about deceiving people but then he began to understand that it’s a whole lot easier to let people think what they want and then surprise them in the end.

He and Michael text every day and Ryan calls whenever he has the chance. Their conversations cover a vast number of topics but, as per the unspoken rule of their relationship, they don't talk about swimming. Instead, Ryan regales Michael with tales of just how wacky Joan Rivers is in person and Michael tells Ryan all about his newest shopping buddy, Megan.

“She's the perfect Hag to my Fag,” Michael gushes. “She took me to this new drag club downtown and we got to meet all the queens after the show. It was awesome! And on Halloween we're dressing up as Maverick and Goose from Top Gun and hitting up a few parties.”

“That's great,” Ryan says. “Wish I could be there.”

“I do too,” Michael confesses, the tone in his voice suddenly very serious. “I miss you. When we’re apart it’s like.... I can’t really explain it. It’s like-”

“Walking around with only half of your soul,” Ryan sighs.

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “It’s just like that.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

Michael and Ryan's schedules finally sync up and it turns out that they will be able to finally spend some time with each other after the Golden Goggles. In the weeks leading up to the actual ceremony Michael spends most of his time worrying. He knows that no one will think twice if he goes stag, but if Ryan does, especially after a summer full of rumors about his love life, things will get ugly fast and then everyone will be all up in their proverbial KoolAid. Ryan tells him not to worry. He actually convinces Michael to tell Megan and try to get her to help out with the whole situation.

“Babe, it's QueerBoy 101,” Ryan sighs into the phone one night when they're talking on the phone. “A Fag must trust his Hag like no other, for he will only love one woman more than her and that is his mother.”

“Did you seriously just quote me the Gay Man Code in Iambic pentameter?” Michael snickers. “And since when do you call me 'Babe'?"

“First off, I've been known to spit a rhyme or two and secondly, I've had your dick in my mouth; I can call you anything I want.” Ryan replies. “Now trust me on this one. Everything is gonna work out fine."

And just like that plans are set in motion. Michael enlists Megan and her fabulous networking skills to find a date for Ryan who will look good on his arm but understand that he his one hundred percent gay as well as one hundred percent unavailable.

“Hell yeah!” she exclaims when Michael finally asks her, pumping a fist in the air. “I've been waiting for some super secret Mission Impossible shit to go down” She then makes a fist, makes Michael do the same, and then holds her knuckles against Michael's for about ten seconds. She shouts out, “ _Fag Hag Powers Activate_!” and literally skips out of the room like a frolicking cartoon animal, her laughter more like a witch's cackle than a princess's giggle.

Michael's not sure what he's more excited about: finally seeing Ryan or watching Megan work her magic.

He knows that either way, the night will be anything but boring.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Lochte didn't always want to be a swimmer. There was a time when he had dreams and ambitions of a different nature. Michael Phelps finds out and makes it his personal responsibility to make those dreams and ambitions come to fruition. Somewhere along the way they fall in love.

* * *

The first thing Ryan says once they’re alone in Michael’s hotel room is, “I’m not going to Rio.”

“Are you sure?” Michael asks. They’ve skipped the Golden Goggles after parties in order to spend the night together. They only have until morning; come seven a.m. Michael has to hop a flight to Washington D.C. and Ryan’s expected back in Gainesville.

“Yeah,” Ryan replies, head held high despite the fact that he’s nervous as all Hell. “I’ve been taking some private lessons to get back in shape and I’m doing really good. My instructor told me Juilliard‘s next semester starts in six months. I’ve decided to apply.”

“Oh my God, Ry!” Michael exclaims, sweeping Ryan up into his arms and spinning him around. “I’m so proud of you! I can’t believe it! Juilliard; that’s amazing!”

“I haven’t told anyone yet,” Ryan confesses when Michael sets him down on his own feet again. “I figured I’d tell them once I got in but either way, my Dad’s probably gonna try to kill me.”

“He’ll have to get past me first.” Michael says passionately.

“It’ll be a big change.” Ryan says, pulling Michael over to the bed so they can sit down. “If I get in I’ll have to move to New York. I’ll have to work at least ten times harder than everyone else and I’ll most likely be the oldest applicant there. Most people apply before they’ve even gone through puberty. Most of them have probably been training since the day they took their first step.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Michael assures his lover, sliding a hand through Ryan’s hair until his palm rests flat against the back of Ryan’s neck. “You’ve got one thing that they don’t. One thing that will give you the drive to come out on top every time.”

“What’s that?” Ryan asks.

“You know what it’s like to have to live without dancing; without the thing you love most,” Michael says, squeezing Ryan’s neck just a little. “They’ve had it handed to them on a silver platter their whole lives. They don’t appreciate it like you do. You’ve had to fight for it. You know what it’s worth and I know that now that you’ve got it you’re never gonna let it go.”

“I kinda feel that way about a lot of things these days,” Ryan says softly. “I feel that way about you most of all.”

“I can understand that,” Michael smirks. He says, “I wouldn’t wanna let me go either.” and manages not to burst into a fit of giggles for about three seconds.

“C’mere you frickin’ goofball,” Ryan snarks as he pulls Michael in for a kiss.


End file.
